


Homecoming

by frecklesarechocolate



Series: Ella!Verse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Babies, Domestic Castiel/Dean Winchester, Domestic Dean Winchester, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-25
Updated: 2013-05-25
Packaged: 2017-12-12 23:01:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/817068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frecklesarechocolate/pseuds/frecklesarechocolate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Yes, I know that it’s canon that Sarah Blake is dead. Yes, I know that it’s canon that she’d had a child and was married to some guy named Ian. The Ella!Verse completely ignores that. Blatantly and unashamedly. I regret nothing.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Homecoming

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I know that it’s canon that Sarah Blake is dead. Yes, I know that it’s canon that she’d had a child and was married to some guy named Ian. The Ella!Verse completely ignores that. Blatantly and unashamedly. I regret nothing.

They bring Ella home on a Thursday in late spring. The trees are bursting with bright green leaves and the birds are singing. Dean tries not to think about how the birds are mimicking the song in his heart, but he is so happy to have their little girl that he can hardly contain himself.

After a lot of discussion with Cas, and of course Sam and Sarah, they had decided to move out of the Men of Letters bunker. “A little girl needs a bright sunshiny room, guys,” Sarah had said, and that was the end of that discussion. Cas and Dean spent an awful lot of time house hunting, and finally found a small three bedroom house with a garage and a postage stamp backyard. There were two little garden plots in the front and two more in the back, and Cas had started gardening almost as soon as they moved in.

“I like to be part of creating things,” Cas had said. Underneath the earnestness was a plea for Dean to understand that Cas still felt he needed to atone for many of his actions in heaven. Fallen, Cas still had his super-human strength, and Dean still felt the electric thrum of power beneath Cas’s skin. Leftover from his days as an angel, Cas still sometimes had that unearthly quality that had awed Dean from the beginning. Then Cas would laugh over something stupid on television (Cas loved Bill Murray movies) and he would become all too human again.

The upstairs of the house has two large-ish rooms and one smaller one, plus one bathroom. They’d turned one of the large rooms into their master bedroom and another into a nursery. The smaller room became the study. There was just enough space for two desks and a rocking chair, which they positioned in the corner, with plans to use it as soon as Ella was born and came home with them. They had another rocking chair in the nursery.

Cas and Dean worked in the study, Cas working on his translations and Dean writing. It turned out that, despite the fact that Dean hadn’t any formal education in it, he was quite a good writer. He wrote freelance articles for magazines, published an online site for hunters and was also working on a book. 

Sometimes they felt the urge to go out and hunt, but since closing the gates of Hell and Heaven, there was very little in the way of hunting to be done. Occasionally a ghost would pop up somewhere, or a wendigo or werewolf, but even those were rare. Cas channeled his energy into the garden, and Dean built things. He tinkered with the Impala on a regular basis, to be sure, but he also found building things satisfying as well. He’d started with a tool shed for Cas and then built a small greenhouse, and was looking into redesigning the layout of the kitchen.

They were content. They were together, Sam and Sarah had found a house just over the state line, and were within a few hours drive. Their baby, Mary, was healthy, beautiful and precocious, and things were as far away from their old lives as they could possibly be.

They painted the nursery, decorating with jungle animals on one wall, and Cas drew and painted in a map of the world on the other. Dean built in bookcases on a third wall, and then he built the crib. Sarah had pouted about that. “How come you didn’t build us one for Mary?” Dean had promised that their next kid could have Ella’s old one, and if they weren’t finished using it before (here he waggled his eyebrows at Sam, who just rolled his eyes in response), he would build another.

Dean cradles her in his arms as he takes her out of her car seat, and they bring her upstairs to her room. Her eyes wander around the room, but immediately resettle on Dean’s face. He’s staring down at her in awe: she’s beautiful, with wide dark blue eyes and the finest spray of dark hair on her head. He wonders if she’ll keep her blue eyes and dark hair, or if that’ll change. Her tiny feet are encased in the smallest white socks in existence, and they kick out as she squirms a little bit.

Cas bustles about the room, checking, double checking and triple checking to make sure everything is where it should be and that they have everything they need. He examines the assortment of diapers they have (again), and the wipes (for the third time), makes sure there are enough onesies (fifth time) and generally obsesses. 

Dean settles in the rocking chair and stares down at Ella, awed. He can’t get over how beautiful she is, he can’t get over how her tiny, perfect little fingers flex and curl, and he can’t get over how she’s /theirs/. She gives a little yawn, her bright pink lips opening as wide as they can go (and still no wider than Dean’s thumb), displaying a perfect tongue. Her eyes are drooping slightly, and Dean feels his own drooping in empathy. She’s small, warm, solid and oh-so-precious.

“Cas,” Dean whispers. Cas stops futzing about with the diaper changing table and turns around. “Cas, just stop for a second and look at your daughter.” Cas kneels next to Dean. He reaches out a tentative hand to stroke her head, his palm large enough to hide her almost completely from sight. She squirms just a bit under it, but then settles again. 

Cas rests his chin on the arm of the rocking chair, one palm on Ella’s head and the other on Dean’s knee. “She’s beautiful,” Cas says in a wonder struck whisper. 

“Yeah, Cas, she is.”


End file.
